


Anything

by cheyla



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Coercion, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sexual Sadism, Torture, Whipping, near-drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6746995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheyla/pseuds/cheyla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tom rescues a trespasser from nearly drowning on his property, he decides to make the boy regret promising he'll do anything to avoid having the police called.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this one-shot sitting around in my writing folder for over a year now. It's very dark, so heed the tags. I don't use them lightly.

Tom Riddle Jr. despised his life. He had ever since he had graduated from university. Gone were the days when he could do whatever he wanted, toying with whomever he wanted. His prospects had been bright upon graduating but he had soon discovered that no matter how high he aimed, it was all the same. He had grown bored of manipulating people in the boardroom and in his company.

He needed something new in life. He needed something beyond a normal job and board meetings and paperwork. Something more than living in a house his parents had given to him upon their deaths in a town where nothing exciting ever happened. 

Tom needed something that didn’t involve going to bed at eleven o’clock on a Saturday night. Something interesting.

It must have been two in the morning when loud noises outside his house woke him up. Brownish red eyes snapped open and Tom glared at his ceiling before forcing himself to get out of bed. If something woke him up, it needed to be checked out, so he resigned himself to seeing where the noises where coming from. He was not going to be happy if it turned out to be nothing.

Nothing was exactly the opposite of what it turned out to be. The young Riddle would hardly call a gang of teenage boys trespassing on his property to swim in the lake it bordered “nothing.” There were four or five boys swimming next to the dock, where the water got deep very quickly, while another one sat on the dock, dangling his feet in the water and conversing with the swimmers. 

The man sighed. He had two options—he could call the police or he could deal with it himself. He was leaning toward the latter, since he could terrorize the boys personally. Besides, if he called the police, it would make a fuss that the rest of the town would get involved in and he didn’t like the idea of police on his property. Tom liked his privacy, which was the only reason he hadn’t sold the house yet.

Yes, his decision was made.

With a sigh, Tom pushed the door open. The movement lit up the outside of the entire house with blinding white lights.

The boys’ reactions were immediate. Not wanting to risk being caught, they swam for the shore and began to run, not bothering to collect their clothes. All except one.

The boy who hadn’t been swimming had attempted to get to his feet to run as well but had ended up slipping and falling in the lake. Tom rolled his eyes at the boy’s clumsiness. His friends hadn’t even noticed in their panic. Well, at least he had someone to verbally terrorize.

All the boys had fled the scene by the time Tom had reached the dock except for the one that had fallen in. Tom wouldn’t put it past the boy to attempt to hide under the dock until he had left.

“I hope you know there’s snapping turtles in this lake,” he said loudly as he stepped onto the dock. “Rumor has it that there’s also pike in this lake. Pike are fish with sharp teeth and a fondness for human flesh. It isn’t rumor though. I was here when they were put in. Stay in any longer and you’ll be missing a few toes…or feet.”

It wasn’t true but Tom wanted to scare the boy a bit. The boy was brave than he thought, since there was no sign of panic from under the dock. There was no sign of movement on the surface at all, nor any breathing that would signify someone hiding under the dock. Tom waited for a moment before it dawned on him that there could be a reason that the boy hadn’t been swimming with the others.

A few more seconds and Tom was cursing the boy and stripping off his sleeping shirt. The boy better be drowning otherwise he would kill the boy. Police be damned. He knew how to make it look like an accident.

Tom hated swimming in the lake. The water was cold during the day no matter what season and it was even more frigid at night. Diving in made Tom gasp and forced him to stay close to the surface to catch his breath. While he was treading, his leg kicked something heavy and warm. Well, at least he had found the boy easily enough.

For good measure, the man kicked the boy again, nudging the body up with his foot and reached down to grab the boy’s arm. When the teen’s head broke the surface, the boy let out a gasp and tried to collect as much air as he possibly could. His arms and legs flailed, nearly forcing Tom to release him.

“Stop moving, boy,” the man snapped. “And don’t say anything otherwise I’ll let you drown.”

The boy seemed to listen and it took only a minute or two for Tom to tug him over into shallower water where they could both stand.

“Please don’t call the police,” the boy pleaded once the pair was on dry land. Tom was keeping a tight grip around his upper arm. “They were being stupid and didn’t think anyone up at the house could hear us. Their parents would kill them if they were charged with trespassing.”

“Good,” Tom said sharply. “It saves me the trouble.”

The boy started when he heard the comment. “Don’t call the police,” he pleaded again. “And don’t turn me in. If the coppers see me, everyone else will get in trouble too. The police know me too well.”

Tom slid his brown-red eyes over to the boy as he picked up the desperation in his tone. They slid over the younger man’s thin, soaking wet frame and he paused, feeling his interest peaking. This was something that could relieve his boredom, if only momentarily.

“How old are you, boy?” he asked. “I doubt they’ll try you too hard if you’re just a kid.”

The teen twitched nervously. “If only,” he muttered. “They’ll charge me as an adult since I’m eighteen now.”

Eighteen? Tom had been thinking the teen was more along fifteen or sixteen. Well, this worked out better for him.

“Pity,” he drawled. “Come along. I think I have a phone call to make.”

The smaller male dug his feet in but Tom was stronger than him. He dragged the teen along until the boy realized that fighting wouldn’t work.

“What do I need to do so you won’t call the police?” he asked reluctantly. Tom smirked.

“Let’s not make it that easy,” he replied. “Unless you’re willing to give in that easily.”

“Normally no but I’ve nearly died tonight and if police get involved, I definitely will die tonight,” the teen said grimly. “So I’ll do anything.”

Tom raised an eyebrow as he turned to regard to teen. “Anything?” he asked, amusement coloring his voice. To his surprise, the other male didn’t flush, stumble, or stammer as he realized his mistake. Instead, he calmly raised his eyes to meet Riddle’s.

“Anything,” he said firmly.

Tom stared at the teen for a few seconds, trying to determine what the glint in his eyes was. It wasn’t resignation to the fact that he would most likely end up doing something he would regret. It wasn’t determination to save his skin. There was no anger or fear. There was just…acceptance.

“Inside,” the older man ordered, opening up the door to his house. “Should I be worried about your friends trying to find you once they realize you’re missing?”

The teen shook his head. “They’ll think I’ve gone home,” he replied. “My name’s Harry, if you wanted to know. I’d rather be called that than boy.”

“Do you really think I care enough?” Tom asked smoothly.

“No,” Harry said calmly. “But I’d really prefer to be called anything other than boy.”

Tom considered that for a moment before he released the teen and pushed him inside the house. “There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall,” he said. “Get out of those wet clothes— _boy_.

Harry stumbled slightly as he was suddenly released but other than that, he showed no emotion, despite being called the name he had specifically requested not to be called. Tom pursed his lips as he watched him go and removed his clothes once the bathroom door shut, concealing Harry from view.

It seemed he had a game to play tonight. He wouldn’t let the boy go until he had made him falter, reconsider, hesitate.

Until he made him question if he truly meant _anything_.

Tom was pouring himself a glass of water when he heard the bathroom door open. He glanced down the hallway and smirked when the teen, Harry, emerged stark naked, looking only slightly uncomfortable when he noticed brown-red eyes focusing on his pale form.

“No towel?” Tom asked in a mocking manner. Harry raised an eyebrow as he stopped walking.

“I figured it’s pointless, knowing what’s coming soon,” he replied as calmly as he could, gesturing to Tom’s own naked form.

“You seem pretty confident that you know what I want,” Tom said softly. “What I’ll do to you.”

“It’s not hard to figure out,” Harry responded. He was staring in Tom’s direction but he didn’t seem to be uncomfortable by the fact that the other man was naked. “I’ve heard the rumors about what happened at the parties here a few years ago.”

Tom turned away. Were those idiotic things still being gossiped about? How irritating.

“The parties, hm?” he asked in a low voice. “This isn’t going to be anything like those parties. A lot has changed in the few years since those happened.”

Harry shifted slightly upon hearing those words. “Can we please just get this over with?” he asked. “I said anything and that no one would miss me for the rest of tonight but my friends will realize something happened by this afternoon.”

Tom glanced at the clock. Nine hours. He could make that work.

Harry tensed up as brown-red eyes landed on him, adopting a predatory glint. “Do you want to know what’s going to happen until then, _Harry_?” As Tom said his name, Harry regretted letting the man know it. “I'm going to make you regret that you said _anything_.”

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine and Tom took in the nervously twitching flesh with anticipation.

“Follow me _Harry,_ ” Tom purred, relishing in the additional shivers that his order caused. The eighteen-year-old took a step forward but Tom stopped him with a shake of his head. “On your hands and knees,” the older man clarified. Harry met Tom’s gaze head on and slowly sank down to his knees, maintaining eye contact as he did so. Tom allowed a small smirk but waited for the moment to pass before he turned and began heading for one of his guest bedrooms. He could hear Harry crawling behind him, moving slowly but not slow enough to be considered reluctant. Just…defiant.

Once Harry was inside the room, Tom shut the door, letting it close with an ominous click. The businessman allowed his eyes to roam over the teen’s small body, taking in every slight muscle, every twitch and tremor, every scar and mark that decorated Harry’s back. Well, that certainly explained a lot.

“What to do with you first,” Tom mused out loud. “There are so many options to choose from.”

Harry remained silent as he settled on his knees, keeping a close eye on the older man. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, wondering which would come first. Would he be ordered to give a blowjob first or would they just get straight to the fucking.

“Just keep sitting there,” Tom said. “I think I’ll add a few more marks to your back.”

Harry stiffened but said nothing as he saw the man reach under the bed and pull out a box, rummaging through it until he pulled out a black whip, letting it unroll slowly. Tom swung it once and Harry flinched as a loud crack rang through the tension-filled air.

“Are you sure you meant _anything_?” Harry could hear the smirk in Tom’s voice.

“Anything,” Harry agreed and with his words, there was another crack and the dark-haired teenager let out a pained gasp as he felt the whip land on his back. Before he could fully process the pain, the whip landed a second time, a third time, enough times for Harry to lose count. The teen sat as still as he could, his fingers clenching the carpet underneath him, teeth grinding together as he refused to cry out.

Sticky liquid trailed down his back. Harry had been beaten enough times in his life to know that it was blood.

“Such a pretty sight,” Tom crooned when he set down the whip a few minutes later. Harry took a deep breath and grimaced when the breath caused his back to move, irritating the welts and open sores that were starting to form.

“You’re not the first one to think so and you probably won’t be the last,” Harry said, allowing a bitter tone to enter his voice. At his words, Tom stepped away and a hard glint entered his eyes.

“Don’t mention anyone else in front of me,” he snapped. “Slap yourself for your misstep.”

Brow furrowed in confusion, Harry did so. The action felt odd and humiliating, as if he wasn’t worthy of the other man’s touch.

“Keep slapping yourself, alternating cheeks until I order you to stop,” Tom said. “I want to see the marks on your cheeks for the rest of our time together.”

Harry’s face flush but he obeyed, trying not to focus on what he was doing to himself.

“Harder,” Tom said as he began to search the room for something. “Remember, I want to see marks.”

For a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of Harry slapping himself and Tom rummaging through the drawers of the dresser in the room.

“Ah-ha,” Tom hissed suddenly and Harry tensed, wondering what was going to happen next.

“On the bed, on your back,” the older man ordered as he turned to face Harry, who stopped paused in his slapping. He moved slowly, not out of defiance like before but because of the aching and stinging pain in his back. As the open sores on his back rubbed against the dark sheets, Harry couldn’t help but let out a small hiss. He had no chance to relieve the pain and get comfortable because as soon as he was lying on the bed, Tom was joining him.

The older man gripped Harry’s right wrist and yanked it up towards the headboard, where he began to tie it to one of the metal bars with the rope he had been looking for. As he knotted and twisted the rope, Tom kept one knee on Harry’s chest, the kneecap centimeters away from pressing against his throat. The pressure he exerted caused Harry to arch his back in agony, trying to get away from the sheets that were digging into the cuts that the whip had left. Tom’s other knee kept Harry’s arm in place, not giving him the opportunity to pull away.

Harry gasped and coughed when Tom pulled away, only to repeat his actions with the other wrist. The teen was starting to become apprehensive, especially now that he had no way to escape, but he had heard the rumors. He had had an idea of what he was promising when he said anything.

As he finished tying Harry up, Tom examined the younger man’s face and tsked.

“They’re red and there’s slight bruising but it’s not enough,” he decided and drew his hand back.

Harry let out a sharp gasp and his head twisted to the side involuntarily at the vicious slap. Blood dribbled into his mouth, telling the teen that he had a split lip. A small grin appeared on Tom’s lips and he slapped the boy again.

After repeating the action a few more times, Tom sat back and regarded the pretty picture he was creating. The teen underneath him was whimpering, writhing, showing his pain in every way except for tears, though his green eyes were beginning to water. Tom knew that it would take a week or two at the very least for his marks to fade. That knowledge satisfied him nearly as much as when he was actually marking Harry.

“Are you still sure you’re okay with allowing me to do anything?” Tom hissed into Harry’s ear. “Because this is just the start.”

Green eyes glanced at the digital clock in the room. Four A.M. Eight more hours.

Harry nodded. “Anything,” he said, bracing himself for hours of beatings and torturous pain. No matter how much pain he went through, no matter how many times Tom asked, Harry continued to say that he was still ready to do anything. 

Until nine in the morning.

Harry gave a shallow, silent breath of relief when Tom moved off the bed, keeping his eyes on the man. Blood, both fresh and dried, was streaked across the man’s body, remnants of the past few hours. The younger man knew that if he looked at his own body, there would be a lot more blood. Still, he wasn’t regretting his words.

Harry kept his green eyes trained on Tom, straining slightly against his bonds when the man left the room. He knew he wouldn’t be forgotten but he was curious as to what the man had planned next.

Tom let his fingers trail over the bannister as he made his way into the kitchen, humming softly. The past few hours had been fun but he was starting to get bored. He needed to see fear in those green eyes. There were a couple of ways he could bring that fear into them. Tom debated as he entered the kitchen and opened a drawer, wondering which he would choose.

After a minute or two, Tom grinned widely, having come up with the perfect plan. The man picked up a knife from the drawer, a slight glint of arousal entering his brown-red eyes. He would complete the circle, bringing this brief and twisted encounter back to where it started.

It seemed like an hour to Harry, even though the eighteen-year-old knew that it had only been a handful of minutes. His heart gave a nervous lurch when he spotted the instrument that the older man was carrying.

Tom let the teen see the smirk that curled up on his lips when he saw the panic in those green eyes.

“Are you sure you meant anything?” he asked softly. Surely the boy wouldn’t be so predictable. How disappointing…

Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and he licked his split, bloody lips. After a few seconds his body relaxed as he made the decision to trust the older man. “Anything,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Tom chuckled, relishing that the noise sent shivers down the boy’s spine. He approached the bed, weighing the knife in his hand. Harry flinched when he raised the weapon and gave a startled gasp when he felt the ropes that tied his hands to the headboard give way.

“Do you not trust me, Harry?” Tom asked mockingly as he released the other arm. Harry sat up and shook some feeling into his arms, forcing himself to ignore the pain in his back and shoulders. He stared at the knife warily.

“It’s time to clean you up,” Tom said easily, setting the knife on the dresser table. Harry glanced at the clock. It was just after nine. Something wasn’t right. “Stay here while I start a bath.”

Harry waited until the man was in the bathroom before he allowed his body to start shaking with fear. This felt like the end but what sort of end he wasn’t sure. Hopefully it wasn’t a permanent end.

“Come here,” Tom called when he determined the large bathtub was full enough.

Taking a deep breath, Harry crawled out of the bed and limped toward the bathroom. He considered taking the knife with him just in case but decided to leave it. He had been beaten badly over several hours. Whipped, beaten, burnt, electrocuted…he was too weak to fend off Tom if the man decided to kill him.

“Get in the bath,” Tom ordered. Harry hesitated but stepped forward when he admitted to himself it would be nice to wash some of the blood off of his body. The warm water felt heavenly on his skin and Harry wondered what it meant that he was mildly surprised that there was no salt mixed in the water.

The teenager flinched when Tom picked up a washcloth and started to wash his shoulders and back. The gestures were gentle, almost loving, but when Harry turned confused eyes on Tom, although the man was giving him a reassuring smile, his brown-red eyes were ice cold.

The warm water and the gentle movements were lulling and Harry soon found himself relaxing in spite of the pit of nervousness in his stomach. He tried to keep his eyes open and focused on Tom as long as possible but eventually the temptation was too great and he was too worn down and tired.

As soon as his eyes fluttered closed, a pair of hands wrapped around his shoulders and pressed down. As Harry was submerged entirely in the water, his mouth opened, only to choke on bloodied water. He struggled to return to the surface and grabbed on to Tom’s wrists, not sure if he was trying to pull himself up or bring the man down with him.

The pressure on his shoulders ceased and Harry was allowed to return to the surface for a few gasps of breath before he was pushed under again.

Tom repeated his actions a couple of times, feeling himself grow hard as he watched the dark-haired teen struggle for his life. It was so arousing, knowing that he held the boy’s life in his hands, knowing that he was responsible for all of the pain the boy was in. He looked so _pretty_ choking on water that was pink with his blood.

His tall, pale body shuddered as the arousal quickly overcame him. Thick white liquid spurted from his cock, coating the outer walls of the bathtub. Tom released Harry and allowed the boy to recover, forcing himself to focus while the boy spit out water and filled his lungs with air again.

“Are you sure you meant anything?” Tom whispered in Harry’s ear once he deemed the boy capable of thinking clearly. The dark-haired teen jerked away from him, fear filling those green eyes. Tom nearly purred in satisfaction at the pure terror he spotted within those emerald depths.

“No, not anything,” Harry said quickly. “Not _that_.”

Tom got to his feet, leaving the boy to scramble out of the bathtub and press himself against the wall. The older man grabbed a bathrobe and threw it at Harry, who quickly covered himself. Tom was sorry to see the bruises, the welts, the burns, and the cuts covered up but the fear was still apparent in Harry’s eyes.

“Time to go home,” he said. “Where do you want me to drop you?”

“That’s it?” Harry asked, unable to keep from asking the question.

Tom gave him a pleasant smile. “I said at the beginning of this that I was going to make you regret promising anything,” he said. “You regret your words now, so there’s no need to play any longer.”

Green eyes stared at him in disbelief, filled with uncertainty, almost as if he couldn’t believe that Tom was letting him go, after everything he had done to him.

“The cul-de-sac behind Main,” he said after a minute. Tom nodded.

“The car is waiting for us,” he said. “Follow me.”

Harry limped behind the older man reluctantly, still not quite believing that it was over. Everything was over and he was still alive.

The car ride into town was silent, one man reliving the events of the night and the other not quite believing his luck. Tom stopped at a stop sign at the beginning of the main road and turned his head to Harry.

“Get out,” he ordered.

“What?” Harry stared at Tom, eyes widening as he realized that his humiliation wasn’t quite over yet.

“Get out,” Tom repeated. “If you hurry, you might get home before the town gets out of church.”

“Bastard,” Harry spat, anger taking over now that he accepted that he was truly free. Tom laughed at the name.

“You can call me anything you’d like,” he said. “ _Anything_.”

Harry’s cheeks reddened at the reminder of his words earlier in the morning and he got out of the car, not looking back when the car moved on. He was ready to forget this night ever happened while Tom was looking forward to reliving it for days to come. It had certainly been…entertaining.


End file.
